


Fruits of Their Labour

by CaptainStuart



Category: Epithet Erased (Cartoon)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:29:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23084002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainStuart/pseuds/CaptainStuart
Summary: Now that all of their remaining jobs have been completed, Percy catches up with Howie and Gorou in Redwood Run.
Comments: 11
Kudos: 44





	1. Chapter 1

Redwood Run. 12 Noon.

Or at least, that’s what the clock said. It originally functioned as a regular clock, but then the Sheriff asked if it could be set to stay at “High Noon” all the time. And so, Percy stepped out of her car, and in to the eternal midday of the town.

“Ah, Redwood Run,” Percy said, unnecessarily narrating the situation. “I see that your woods are as red as ever.”

With no-one around, and no buildings willing to talk back to her, the words were met with total silence. With a small “Hmph,” Percy began walking inwards, leaving her police car parked in a safe and legal position just on the outskirts of town.

The centre of the town was a lot quieter than it had been a few days before; with the Banzai Blasters cleared out, what had previously been a hive of scum and villainy was now a barren, western town, with the local population now outnumbered by tumbleweeds.

It was actually a huge problem. Even the Well Watcher had been replaced by a Tumbleweed with a hat. However, all of the tumbleweeds were abiding by the local laws, so there was nothing for Percy to do about the situation. If anything, they were _more_ law-abiding than the usual riff raff in town.

Having made a point to arrive early, Percy opted to pay one quick visit to Gorou, and see how things had been since the arrests several days earlier. Calmly entering his local office, she quickly surveyed the scene: No one was being held in the cell, the donuts had been replenished, and the Sheriff was sitting lackadaisically at his desk.

“Good Noon-ing, Sheriff,” Percy said, presuming that this was the appropriate greeting for denizens of the town.

“Oh! Hey there, Lady!” Sheriff Gorou replied. “Don’t think I’ve seen you around here, before!”

“Sheriff, I was here last week. When we apprehended all the Blasters?” Percy responded bluntly, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, where you? Sorry, my memory ain’t that good! I can’t even remember what I had for breakfast!” Gorou apologised, taking a bite out of a donut mid-sentence.

“Well, given the state of your clothes… And your beard… And your desk...” Percy began, noticing the scattering of sugar and sprinkles across all of them, “One would presume that it was some manner of Baker’s Confectionery. If I might be so crude as to make a guess, I would even go as far as to say it could have been one of your delectable dough-covered nuts.”

“Oh! Oh! Oh!” Sheriff Gorou began to reply, excitedly. “That’s right! Wow, lady, you should be a detective or something!”

“Quite,” Percy replied, unintentionally humouring him with a smile. “Well Sheriff, I actually came to check how things have been since last week’s arrests. Has there been any further trouble?”

“No sir-ee!” Gorou responded, happily. “You see, ever since all the bad guys got arrested, we haven’t had no more bad guys! Funny, that!”

“Yes, there is usually a correlation between the apprehension of criminals and the reduction of crime levels,” Percy began. “But what about all those weeds outside?”

“Oh, you mean the tumblies!” Gorou answered, happily. “Well, there was a strong wind, and they rolled into town! Aren’t they just the cutest?”. As he spoke, Gorou lifted up a Tumbleweed onto his desk, which had a cute little pink bow lovingly placed onto it. “I caught this little fella as he strolled past the office. His name is Stephanie! Say hello, Stephanie!”

The Tumbleweed did not speak.

“Good day to you, Stephanie. I am Detective Percival King of the Sweet Jazz Police Force,” Percy greeted, flashing her badge to the Tumbleweed. It was unimpressed.

“Aw, don’t be like that, Stephanie!” Gorou implored to his pet Tumbleweed. Percy gazed momentarily at the scene of the Sheriff scolding a tumbleweed with a bow, before remembering that she still had somewhere she needed to be.

“Well, it was nice catching up with you, Gorou, but I really must be going. The law waits for no man. Or woman. Or any other valid identity,” Percy said, waving to him. “Oh, and it was nice meeting you, Stephanie.”

Stephanie did not respond, as it was a tumbleweed.

“See you around!” Gorou said, waving Percy off. “Oh, before I forget, here, take a gun!”

Gorou’s words shot through Percy harder than any bullet ever could. Her past failings came back to her, flooding her mind all at once. “No, Sheriff, I can’t...” she began, tears starting to well around her eyes. “I’m… Not strong enough, to go through that again.”

“Oh! Sorry! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to cause no problems!” Gorou apologised, unsure as to why Percy had such a visceral reaction to his gift, but not wanting to upset her.

“Just… Look after it for me, Sheriff,” Percy asked. “Treat the Peashooter better than I ever could.” With that, Percy began to depart, leaving on a somewhat cryptic note. Gorou, still confused, tried to shrug off the sad mood.

“Well, I gotta give it to someone. Here you go, Stephanie!” Gorou said, tossing the gun into the tumbleweed. It went off in the process, shooting out one of the windows. “Stephanie! Be careful! You’re not actually meant to shoot one of these things, you’re only meant to pretend!”

Stephanie did not respond.


	2. Chapter 2

The Train Station. Still 12 Noon.

Percy wandered into the abandoned plaza; far away from all the residential housing, the locals never wandered out to this spot. And given Redwood Run had negative attractions, very few people ever came in on the train. Usually, it was either contractors, or scoundrels who needed a quiet place to do their debaucherous deals in. But, in this case…

“Percival King”, a strong voice rang out from the station. An imposing man made his way towards Percy; still dressed in his work attire, still carrying his gear, and still having a face like thunder, it was clearly none other than Howie Honeyglow. “You’re late.”

“Howie,” Percy responded, trying to match his blunt incantation but inevitably sounding far too soft. “It’s good to see you.”

“Hmph,” Howie grunted, walking up to Percy. “So, what was it that you wanted to show me?”

“Ah, yes, the purpose of this visit. Please, look over here,” Percy said, gesturing to the brand new town hall.

“That place?” Howie said, squinting slightly as he looked up at it. “What about it?”

“Well, that’s your craftsmanship, is it not?” Percy asked.

“ _And_ my Worker Bees’,” Howie added sternly, glaring at Percy.

“Ah, yes, of course,” Percy admitted. “But the point still stands. For all intents and purposes, you can consider this your handiwork.”

“Don’t tell me it already needs fixing up,” Howie said, grabbing his wrench. “’Cause I’ll be mad if someone broke it.”

“Not at all!” Percy assured, keeping up her cheerful demeanour. “I actually called you out here to… Take advantage of the construction.”

Howie raised an eyebrow. “What’s that mean?”

“Howie,” Percy began, “I know you. And you know me. My dedication to the law is second to none. Your dedication to your craft is even stronger. We live and breathe for our respective jobs.”

“Well you got that right,” Howie said, using his wrench as an armrest as he slouched back.

“I’ve finally finished filing the paperwork for the recent arrests. And, at the request of my supervising officers… I’m taking today off,” Percy announced. “So, I was thinking-”

“Nope.” Howie responded, picking up his wrench and beginning to walk back to the station. “If you don’t have a job for me, I’m leavin’.”

“Howie...” Percy implored, only to be ignored. She was hoping that she wouldn’t have to be abrasive today, but it seems that she wouldn’t be lucky. Sighing, she puffed out her chest, and attempt to assert her rank. “As a member of the Force, I order you to-”

“Unless your order is for a BUILDING,” Howie began, crunching his wrench as he shouted, “then I don’t wanna HEAR IT.”

“Take a break!” Percy shouted.

“NO!” Howie hit back.

“Take a break, please!” Percy shouted again, hoping the magic word would work.

“NO, THANK YOU!” Howie politely declined, still shouting. Percy sighed once more.

“You know, I once read that taking occasional breaks helps with your overall productivity,” Percy said, using her trump card. “An hour on the job, an hour break, and one more hour yields better work than just working for three hours straight. This break would be good for you.”

Howie turned to look at her, judging her expression. Plain as always, there wasn’t much to read. “Is that how you justify it to yourself, hmm?” he asked. “’Cause that sounds like quitters’ talk to me.”

“It’s true. I read it on the internet. They never lie there,” Percy said with a smile.

“Well, whatever helps you sleep at night,” Howie said, once more turning to the station. Looking at the departure board, he quickly realised he’d fell right into Percy’s trap.

“Oh my,” Percy said, approaching Howie at the station. “It appears that the trains-”

“WHY AREN’T THE TRAINS RUNNING?” Howie asked forcefully.

“It’s the Sabbath. They’re still running… But less frequently,” Percy began, smiling. “There won’t be one for three hours.”

“WHY?” Howie asked, grabbing Percy’s shoulders and shaking her. “WHY WOULDN’T THEY BE WORKING?”

“Because people...” Percy began, “...Take breaks.”

Howie had a pure look of confusion on his face, as he tried to understand why any worker would not dedicate their entire lives to their profession. However, this look quickly turned to one of defeat, as he realised he was stuck in this town. “...You win, King,” he admitted.

“Hooray!” Percy plainly cheered, Howie still having hold of her. “Well, let’s go relax at this new café of yours.”

Howie let go of Percy, allowing her to start walking, but felt the need to interrupt. “That wasn’t a café I built. I’m not even sure if they’ve found a purpose for it yet.”

“...Oh,” Percy said, having not fully planned the day in advance. “Well, that certainly throws a _wrench_. In my plans.” There was a brief pause, as Howie squinted at Percy. “Ha ha,” she said, plainly imitating a laugh.

“...So you wanted to meet up for lunch, but you don’t have any food,” Howie assessed.

“That does appear to be the case,” Percy began, “But I do have _this._ ”

Percy pulled out a flask, containing some sort of mystery liquid. “In here, I keep my energy drink.”

“Your… Energy drink?” Howie questioned.

“Yes. You see, you must keep your energy levels up at all times. This flask contains the most energising drink of all-”

“It’s full of water, isn’t it,” Howie interrupted.

“...Yes.”

“Alright,” Howie said, having learned to just accept Percy’s idiosyncrasies.

“Ah, but can you guess what flavour-”

“Water flavour.”

“...You win again, Honeyglow,” Percy admitted, having been utterly defeated at her own game.

Howie deeply sighed, and reached into his bag, pulling out several screws. “Well, I can throw some of these in. I feel bad eating them if I’m not working, though.”

“Ah, very appropriate,” Percy commented. “I too feel bad about consuming my energy drink outside of working hours.”

“...You don’t drink water off the clock?”

“What? No, of course I do. I just don’t have my energy drink.”

“BUT YOUR ENERGY DRINK IS JUST WATER!”

“YES, BUT I ONLY DRINK THIS WHEN I’M WORKING!” Percy said back, raising her voice to match Howie’s, without shouting. The two of them stared at each other; Howie had become somewhat agitated, yet Percy kept her usual, pleasant composure. Not wanting to get too mad at her, Howie let out a deep breath, and sat down on the ground.

“Alright,” Howie began, “I’ve had worse lunches.”

“Oh?” Percy inquired. “Do share.”

“...That wasn’t really referring to anything specific,” Howie replied. “Just in general. I’ve had good lunches, I’ve had bad lunches.” Howie looked up at Percy. “You, uh, gonna sit down?”

“I’d rather not dirty my uniform,” Percy replied, dusting herself off in the process.

“Heh, typical,” Howie chuckled to himself. “Always letting your Epithet do the heavy lifting. Never getting your own hands dirty.”

“I’ll have you know that this is entirely a matter of preference,” Percy began. “In fact, I overexerted myself to the point of collapse in these very woods last week.”

“Overexertion is a myth,” Howie hit back, “a conspiracy invented by those who want to stop working.”

“Howie, I fell unconscious.”

“Only because you gave up.”

“I legitimately had zero control over the matter.”

“See? Your problem was your self control. Quitters’ talk.”

“Hmph”, Percy hmphed, hmphing with a mighty hmph. The two glared intently at each other for a moment, keeping up a stern exterior. However, on the inside, they were both smiling; even if it wasn’t the intended way to spend the day, they were enjoying the brief foray into friendly banter. It wasn’t often that they could converse without either of them having any worries. Unfortunately, such moments tend to be short lived.

“Wait,” Howie asked, having heard a rumbling in the distance. “The hell is that?”

Percy furrowed her brow and began to focus. “I’m not sure… But it’s getting closer.”

“Brace yourself,” Howie said, standing up and brandishing his wrench. With the ground beginning to quake, Percy also prepared herself, drawing her Real-Ass God-Damn Sword and pointing it southward, towards the looming threat on the horizon.

Within moments, the cause of the quakes became clear: the tumbleweeds had begun to roll towards the station.

“Egads,” Percy exclaimed, “the devil’s soldiers advance towards us!”

“...Come again?” Howie asked. “They’re just tumbleweeds.”

“Yes,” Percy confirmed, “but I have received enough calls regarding the possession of so-called ‘weeds’ to know that-”

“Alright,” Howie interrupted, cutting her off. The two looked towards the oncoming tide of thorns, bracing for impact. Even if the damage a rolling, thorny weed could cause was minor… there must have been hundreds of them. With the horde finally reaching the two protagonists, they prepared to swing their weapons; only to find that they both missed.

What they had assumed was an onslaught of incognisant weeds was in fact a welcoming party of harmless, friendly ones. Most of them diverted out of the way, going around Howie and Percy; and the few that did accidentally bump into them bore no thorns. By no means a pleasant experience, but definitely not a hostile one either.

“I know my working man’s skin is enough to resist minor damage,” Howie began, “but you seem to be doing alright yourself, Percy.”

“Quite,” Percy replied, carefully eyeing the various tumbleweeds as they brushed against her. “What curious formations.”

As the tumbleweeds continued to roll past, various items that had been caught in them begun to spin towards the two: starting with a chequered blanket, followed by a picnic basket, and various treats that were all plated up and placed nicely on the blanket before them. Before they knew it, a small three-person picnic had been prepared for them.

“Well, this is awfully convenient,” Percy commented.

“They gave us one too many sets of plates, so they got something wrong,” Howie replied. “Amateurs.”

“Oh! Are you talking about me?” a voice bellowed from the distance. Running after the tumbleweed horde was one Sheriff Gorou, waving to the two of them.

“Sheriff?” Percy asked.

“That’s me!” Gorou cheerfully replied. “I let Stephanie outside to play, but he scared all the other tumblies away with his peashooter.”

“YOU GAVE A GUN TO A TUMBLEWEED?” Howie shouted, scaring several of the tumbleweeds away in the process.

“I had to give it to someone!” Gorou protested.

“NO, YOU DIDN’T!”

“Oh, didn’t I? Ha ha!” Gorou laughed, before stopping himself. “Uh oh.”

“Sheriff, the tumbleweeds in this town appear to be harmless,” Percy commented. “I am embarrassed to admit that I was initially misled about their alignment.”

“Boy, that sure was a lot of words!” Gorou chimed in. “I don’t really know what you meant by them, though.”

“The tumbleweeds don’t have thorns, Sheriff,” Howie explained.

“Thorns? Oh! Do you mean the sprinkles?” Gorou asked, pulling out a bag of painstakingly-picked tumbleweed thorns. “I’ve been snacking on these ever since I found out they tasted nice. They’re just like sugar, but from a plant!”

“Is that so?” Percy inquired, dubious of Gorou’s claims.

“Yup! Here, do you want to try one?”

Percy and Howie glared at each other for a moment, with Percy seemingly interested in the proposition, and Howie looking down on her for even considering it. Like a puppy who had been given a warning, Percy sighed and declined, leaving the mystery to never be solved.

“So, you de-thorned all of these tumbleweeds by yourself, Sheriff?” Howie asked.

“Yup! Some of my donuts were naked, and there were sprinkles growing right outside, so I did the farming thing where you collect the food!”

Howie glanced around them, eyeing the horde of tumbleweeds. “And you picked _all_ of them for your donuts?”

“Yup!” Gorou boasted.

“...How many donuts did you have?”

“Ooh! Good question!” Gorou answered. “It must have been...” he began, before starting to count on his fingers. “...At least five!”

Howie looked at the literal hundreds of tumbleweeds around them. “Well, I guess you’re not wrong.”

“As much as I enjoy discussing the sugary produce of our formerly thorny fellows,” Percy interjected, “I do believe they prepared lunch for us.”

The three amigos looked down at the lovingly placed picnic, which had since had a few candles added to it during their conversation.

“Where did they even get all of this?” Howie asked.

“Oh, I think I saw this outside Mister Morning’s house this morning! Or nooning? Ha ha, times are hard.”

“Wait,” Percy butted in. “You’re saying that all this belonged to one of the non-tumbleweedian citizens of this town?”

“Uh, yeah, I think!” Gorou replied.

The cogs were clearly turning in Percy’s mind. The tumbleweeds which had rolled over to them had brought ill-gotten goods with them; and so there was only one logical course of action to take.

“Well, if the food’s waiting, let’s all-” Gorou began, before being interrupted by the _click_ of a pair of Eraser Cuffs. Howie and Gorou looked over to see Percy individually attaching a pair of cuffs to each tumbleweed in succession.

“Oh, you don’t need to do that, lady, I’m sure they didn’t mean anything by it!” Gorou insisted.

“Sheriff,” Percy began, continuing to arrest the tumbleweeds. “Some members of this congregation made a conscious effort to deliver lunch-related apparatus to us at our very own location. This was pre-meditated theft. And do you know what that makes the rest of these tumbleweeds?”

“What?” Gorou asked.

“Accomplices to the crime.”

As Percy uttered those words, the entire horde of tumbleweeds quickly dispersed, fleeing in all directions. They’d had various run ins with the fuzz before; none of them wanted to go back to prison.

“Fleeing from the crime scene, eh?” Percy loudly asked. “Looks like an admission of guilt, to me.” Standing up straight, dusting herself off once more, and preparing to dispense justice, she loudly declared one thing: “It’s a good thing the law never sleeps.”

“What about this lunch of yours?” Howie asked, interrupting Percy’s moment. “I thought you wanted to take a break?”

“Howie, I know you, and you know me. When there’s work to be done, there are no breaks.”

Howie flashed a smile at Percy, who in return smiled back. “Go get them, King,” Howie said, encouraging his friend. With a smile and a nod, Percy ran off into the woods, intending to track down each and every tumbleweed they had just encountered.

“So, uh...” Gorou said, reminding Howie that he was still there. “Do you want to try one of these sugary thorns?”

“Absolutely not.” Howie affirmed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For @zelebirbo, who wanted more Howie and Percy content. Gorou's inclusion was a happy little accident.


End file.
